Beneath The Surface
by ZBBZL
Summary: "None of them really knows what they're running from, but in their mind, there's no longer any doubt at all: they are done." Post 4x11, "Drive." KD.


**Title_: _**_Beneath The Surface.  
_**Timeline**: Post 4x11, "Drive."_  
_**Summary**_**:** _None of them really knows what they're running from, but in their mind, there's no longer any doubt at all: they are done.

Yeah, I know. I hate Drive. I think you know that - at least, Twitter knows! And yet... this popped in my head, & once an idea is there, I need to write it down. This not-so-little piece makes references to episodes like _The Debt_, the _Blyes_, _The Fifth Man_ and _Collateral_. Overall, let's say it's me trying to do some character study and call it a post-ep. ;) As usual, thanks to Jess for reading this & not dying, and I hope y'all enjoy. :)

* * *

This is a call Marty Deeks had _not_ expected.

As he hangs up and puts his phone on his coffee table, he still can't quite believe it. Rubbing a hand over his scruff, he leans back and lays his head on the back of the couch, briefly closing his eyes as he breathes in and exhales slowly, feeling the exhaustion and stress of the day wash over him.

He's never really been comfortable with people thanking him for his help – after all, he is a _cop_, and that's kind of the whole point of his job. But at the end of the day, there's nothing he can do that will bring back the loved ones they lost, or undo the horrible things that people have been through, and that's partly why he doesn't understand what's just happened. For all he knows, he let down more people than he helped, Talia Radler included. So for her to call him and apologize for her behavior, when Deeks believes he's the one who should apologize for walking out of her life without making sure that she and her mother would be okay, can only be described as the biggest shock of the day.

He fought for Jenny and Talia, doing everything he could so they wouldn't be separated, but in retrospect, Deeks wonders if he really did the right choice – and maybe _why_ he did what he did. Had he done it because he thought Jenny was a good mother and could take care of her child, or because he hadn't been able to resist the tears gleaming in a little girl's big brown eyes ? It had broken his heart to see little Talia cry, holding onto her mother tight, when Jenny and he had discussed about the Child Protective Services wanting to take Talia away; it had broken his heart to think of them being separated because they loved each other so much, and Deeks couldn't see how it would be better for Talia if she went to live in a foster home when her own mother was willing to do _anything_ to keep her.

_Now_, though… Now that he knows what her life has been like since then, Deeks can't help but wonder for a second if it was _worth_ it. Worth being the kid at school with holes in her socks and dirt on her skin; worth being the kid who lived in a shelter, the kid who never really slept at night because it was dark and gloomy and scary to be among all these people, all these creepy men…

A shiver runs down his spine at the very thought.

_He_ could have prevented that, if he'd been reasonable, if he had taken a minute to think of the life he was dooming her to live. And worst is, Deeks knows he can't forgive himself because he _knew_ what it was like to be that kid, because he'd _been_ that kid; the little boy with new bruises every week whose mother invented crazy stories to cover up her abusive husband, the boy who had to scrub his clothes to take off blood stains from a fist to his mouth or nose, the boy whose only close friend was a kid from across the street going through the same. He'd been that kid, and no one had cared enough to reach out and help him; no school teacher who could see what was going on, no neighbor who could hear the screams at night – _no one_.

And in the end, he had done the same with Talia. He had looked away, pretending to not see that the life Jenny Radler had to offer for her daughter wasn't made for a child.

He knows that foster homes are not always idyllic; he knows that horrible things can happen to children there, that sometimes danger isn't always lurking outside but _within_ the walls of a house that becomes hell. But Talia could have been part of the lucky ones, finding a good home with loving, good foster parents; and maybe that if he hadn't dropped law, he could have helped Jenny find some stability in her life until she could have her daughter back. Maybe he could have helped her find a job and an apartment, and maybe then mother and daughter could have lived happily together. Maybe then, Talia wouldn't have had to go through everything she went through; maybe she wouldn't know what it feels like to be afraid of the dark because _real_ monsters _are_ out there, maybe she wouldn't know what it feels like to see people looking at you, knowing that nothing's fine when you pretend it is, and yet who don't do a thing.

Deeks sighs, rubbing his fists over tired eyes. If anything, Talia doesn't seem to resent him, like their first encounter today had let him reckon. He can still hear the warmth in her tone, despite the light trembling in her voice on the other side of the line, as she'd thanked him. "_You were the only one willing to help us – help my mom. The only one who didn't think she was useless, worthless – that she deserved to be helped. Without you, they would have never let my mom keep me. And between sleeping in the back of a van, and spending my childhood jumping from one foster home to another… I want to thank you for helping us stay together." _And then she'd apologized for blaming him – _he_ could never blame her for that. He'd told her that it was okay, that she was just trying to save her mother's life, but Talia had insisted. "_I had no right to… Earlier, when I blamed you, it wasn't right. I was wrong to do that. You did all you could – you did more than anybody else ever did for us_."

And then she had whispered quiet words of gratitude he'd barely heard over the tears he could imagine rolling down on her cheeks, a lump forming in her throat, pain and fear and sheer relief overwhelming her all at the same time after the events of the day and the memories.

He had pressed his lips firmly close, silently nodding, unable to utter a word.

-:-

He's sprawled on his couch, absently watching his favorite movie that doesn't seem to make him smile so much tonight, Monty draped all across his chest, when he hears the knock on the door. He already knows who it is, and for the first time in almost three years, Deeks _isn't_ glad or thrilled to see the person standing on the other side.

He gets up, though, Monty groaning at the movement before the dog settles in the warmth he leaves behind, and Deeks goes to the door, opening it to reveal his partner. She looks gorgeous, as usual, dressed in a simple purple V-neck and jeans, her hair loose in its natural waves, but there's just too much anger and disappointment boiling in him tonight to truly appreciate her beauty.

She lifts a hand to her face, tucking a stray curl behind her ear, looking almost shy and hesitant. "Hey, partner," she says, a sheepish smile briefly tugging at her lips as her eyes meet his. There's a silent apology in hers, deep brown completely open for once, but Deeks isn't really sure what's in his.

"Hey," he says back, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans his shoulder against the doorframe; he's blocking her access, and the sadness flashing in her eyes almost makes him want to open his arms and hug her and apologize. He doesn't, though; he _can't_. "Fancy meeting you here," he adds, fake cocky grin twitching the corner of his lips up; he can tell she doesn't buy it.

Kensi sighs, briefly looking down before their gazes lock again. It's new and somewhat unsettling for Deeks, because she's never looked at him like that, so intensely, her beautiful eyes conveying so many emotions ranging from guilt to sorrow to a silent, almost desperate plea, that he just doesn't know what to do. He's always the one pushing, asking; the two only times Kensi's ever looked at him with unshed tears gleaming in her eyes, he left before something could happen.

The first time, she'd thought he had just been fired, and he'd had to stop her before she could say something she'd regret, had she known it wasn't real.

The second, she was asking him what to do with her long-lost mother after the wreck of the day, after getting the truth at last; she'd been open, incredibly so, tired and in pain – _still_ _beautiful_ – and he had wanted nothing more than to hug her and tend to her wounds and be there for her in any capacity that she needed from him.

And yet, in both situations, he had just left.

And right now, she's looking at him like it'd _break_ her if he closed the door on her.

He can't pretend that's not what he wants to do, though.

But he doesn't. Instead, Deeks just pushes off the door, stepping aside to let her in. She stops him when he turns to go back to sitting on the couch; her hand reaches out to him, fingers closing gently around his forearm. "_Deeks_…" Her voice is soft, softer than he's ever heard, and Deeks doesn't know if he loves or hates it. Right now, he wants nothing more than to hate it, hate _her_, but finds it incredibly hard because in spite of everything, in spite of how hurt he's feeling, she's his partner, his best friend, his Kensi, and hating her is the only one thing he could never bring himself to do.

"I – I think we need to talk," she tells him after a moment, her teeth lightly digging in her bottom lip. When he just waits for her to elaborate, she goes on, "I came here to apologize, but that's not the only reason…"

Her fingers gently trace the length of his forearm, and for a moment, both Kensi and Deeks stare at them, Deeks feeling the soothing gesture slowly calm him down. She strokes her thumb over the pulse at his wrist, and she continues, her voice just a bit firmer, but no less soft. "I've been the worst partner today. I've let you down. I've been… Honestly, I don't even know why you opened your door."

He could tell her he only did because he didn't want her to pick his lock, but even that feels like too much at the moment. And honestly, Deeks is not sure he could say anything because her apology, the trembling of her unsteady fingers on his skin, the sight only of shy, sad Kensi Blye strips him out of all the words in the world. There's no teasing joke or mean comment that can make its way past his lips, as if the anger and hurt he feels have been silenced by the furious drumming of his heartbeat against his chest at her touch, her scent, her closeness and the wetness in her eyes.

Deeks lifts a hand to her face, his thumb gently wiping at the corner of her eye as the rest of his fingers linger on her cheek for a second. She locks her gaze with his, unwavering despite the welling of her eyes, and Deeks almost leans in…

But he doesn't.

Instead, he gently guides her to sit on the couch and takes the seat beside her, Monty just curling up on a ball to give them some room before he drifts off to sleep again.

-:-

She stares at her hands, distractedly playing with her fingers, suddenly unable to look him in the eye. Deeks doesn't know how long it takes for her to actually say something; when she does, he's completely stunned. "I _failed_ you, today. You're my partner, and I'm supposed to have your back. Be there for you. And today, I wasn't. Today, I was being irrational, and I let the thoughts in my head get the best of me and I'm sorry for that."

He was expecting an apology for forgetting his birthday, but _this_…

A statement like that can only lead them to new, uncharted territories they've been oh so reluctant to explore so far. And yet, Deeks can't help but think that they need – _must_ – take that leap together if they ever want for their partnership to really mean something; what does having each other's back mean, in the end, if there are secrets between them, secrets that could cost the other's life out of anger or jealousy or underlying, unresolved issues ?

"I was mean this morning," Kensi continues, finally looking up at him. Deeks doesn't try to deny it, and she chuckles, her mirthless laugh breaking something inside him; yet, he says nothing at all. "I was mean, I completely lacked of tact, and I didn't even think of how it could hurt you. I didn't think of what it could do to you, to know that someone you tried to help was in danger. And then, when we went to see Talia…" She pauses, flicking her tongue over suddenly chapped lips; God, she will _never_ forgive herself for her behavior then. "You didn't deserve that barb I made at all. You didn't need it. You needed _me_, and I – I just mocked you. And that was so, so wrong of me."

"Why did you do it, then ?" There's no hostility in his tone, no resentment; just genuine wonder. He can't pretend it didn't sting; can't pretend that it hadn't been a slap to the face to hear her question the nature of his relationship with an ex-client or dismiss the one thing that he could be somewhat proud of with a simple _Well done, Counselor_.

That had been a low blow he still had trouble taking; some people would be impressed to know that he'd made it in undergrad and then law school, working his ass off to pay for everything because no one was around to do it for him. Some would, but Kensi Blye clearly wasn't; and in the end, no one's opinion really means anything but _hers_.

He never got to prove himself to his father; he thought he was done trying with Kensi. That he'd passed the test – clearly, he was wrong.

Kensi sighs heavily, biting her bottom lip before shaking her head. "I – I don't even know. I just… Sometimes I get stupid, okay ? I heard Jenny on the tape, calling you Marty, and…" She shrugs, but it doesn't go unnoticed by any of them that _stupid_ wasn't the word she meant there; Deeks is nice enough not to comment on the pink blush tinting her cheeks, though. "And there's just this whole part of your life I don't know anything about, and it got to me. And then when we went to see Talia, you said you had history together and –"

"I meant that I thought she'd remember the guy who did everything so she wouldn't be taken away from her mom," he says, interrupting her. "She was nine or ten back then, though. Guess it's not surprising she doesn't. I kind of got older since."

"I know. I _know_. But then she didn't seem to remember you, and she started talking about…" That's when Kensi's voice breaks, a tiny gasp escaping her lips before she presses them firmly together, trying to swallow it back, trying to erase and rewind and not let it out.

Deeks can't help it; he reaches out for her, laying a hand over her knee that he gently squeezes. He couldn't be angry with her right now, even when hours ago, even when just before she knocked on his door he was; he can't be angry with her when there's obviously something weighing on her heart that she desperately needs to let out. "_Kens_…" It's a quiet murmur of her nickname, and it's all he can give her.

She shakes her head again, inhaling deeply before she lifts up her face, staring back into his blue eyes; he's already seen confused, hurt, young Kensi in hers, but never before has she ever allowed him to see so much. "We – we both went through terrible things, didn't we ?" she states, not asks. "You, with your father… And with your mom too, I guess. And me, with my dad, my mom, Jack…" She puts her hand above his, her fingers nothing but a gentle caress over his. "But that's what makes us a good team. We get each other. But, there's still plenty of things we don't know about each other. There are things I never told anyone; not Jack, not Nate, not Callen. Not _you_. But you're my partner. And our lives depend on how much and how well we know each other. But more than that…"

She gets up so quickly that it startles Deeks, but he lets her; he gives her the distance she needs to compose herself. Kensi has her back to him, but he can see the quick rise and fall of her chest as she tries to control her breathing, but ultimately fails. "You're my friend. And even if I haven't been a good friend today, you do mean a lot to me, Deeks. And I can't imagine sharing all these things with _anyone_ but you." He sees her bring a hand to her face, imagine her wiping traitorous tears from her eyes, and then her fists clench at her sides; he wants to slip in behind her and turn her around to face him, wants nothing more than to wrap his arms around her and hold her, and tell her that it's okay, that she doesn't have to tell him anything, that they can just pretend today didn't happen.

But he can't deny that he's intrigued.

Neither can he deny that she hurt him today.

She turns around, but she focuses her gaze somewhere above his head, behind him on the wall – there's nothing there but a shelf filled with books, but apparently, it fascinates her. She slowly blinks her eyes, once, twice, breathing in and out, and then she starts.

"You never asked why I hadn't talked to my mom in fifteen years. You never asked why I didn't go to live with her, after my dad died." There's no resentment in her tone; very much like him earlier, she's just stating some facts. "You never asked, and honestly, if you had, I wouldn't have told you back then. I couldn't. And I feel like you could feel that. But now… Now I think it's time to tell you."

Deeks knows where this is going. Hetty told him, a few months ago when Kensi's insistence that she could connect with the girl, Astrid, and then Hetty's acceptance had surprised him.

He knows what she's about to say, and yet, when she says it, when the words escape her lips, he feels like he's been slapped in the face all over again.

"After my dad died, I ran away. I ran, and I didn't stop for almost a year. And the things that Talia told us, they just reminded me so much of what I've seen in the streets…"

-:-

She never meets his eyes as she goes on, and honestly, Deeks is almost glad because he knows that the struggle he can hear in her voice and spot in her welling eyes is written all over his face, too. He knew, and yet didn't know anything – it's one thing to learn from Hetty that Kensi had lived on the streets, and a complete different one to hear her say the words, hear the shaking in her voice, see the emotional turmoil reflect on her without her being able to hide it.

And yet Kensi never wavers nor stops as she starts her story, and he just sits there, watching her.

"After the military police left our house, I just sat at the bottom of the stairs for, God, _hours_, or at least it felt like it. I couldn't believe it. I couldn't believe that my dad was _dead_. But more than that, I couldn't believe that it was true, that my dad had drunk too much and killed himself, because… Because that's how my uncle died.

"I was just a little girl when it happened, but it changed him. Losing his little brother, it changed my dad. And I never really understood that until the day I came home late from a party with some friends and my dad was waiting for me on the front porch. The girls walked me to the door, and maybe I'd had a drink, and my dad… God, he got so angry. When he smelled it, he sent me to my room and drove my friends home. When he came back, he yelled at me, and that was the first time he'd ever yelled at me like that. I was – I was so angry, and I thought it was so unfair because he was treating me like a little girl because _dammit_, it was just one drink, and then he told me. He told me how the uncle I loved, the brother he loved, had gotten killed by some drunk driver, by someone who had been selfish and irresponsible and stupid, and… He was just scared for me. He wanted me to understand that you couldn't drink and drive, even if it was just one drink.

"So I knew that they had to be wrong. That my dad would have never gotten behind the wheel if he was inebriated. And they just didn't listen to me. I stayed a week at my neighbors – I was used to it, whenever my dad had to go for an assignment, I stayed with them. I tried – I tried everything, but no one listened. And I couldn't take it anymore. So, one night, I packed a bag and I left. I ran."

Her eyes flicker down for a brief second, enough for them to lock with his; there are unshed tears in her eyes that slowly drop at the corner whenever she blinks. She stays where she is, though; she just can't sit near him, because she knows he'll do something like hug her and if she does, there's just no way she can go on with her story.

If he hugs her, she'll fall apart in his arms, and Blyes don't fall apart.

"He'd taught me how to survive just about anywhere, so the streets didn't seem like a big challenge to me. But… It didn't take me long to figure out how _wrong_ I'd been. After five or six days, I really started to regret what I'd done. But I just couldn't go back, because no one wanted to listen to me. No one believed me. They thought that I loved my dad too much to imagine he could have flaws. So I kept running.

"I was too afraid to check in a motel, because I knew that by now, I had to be reported missing, so I stayed in the streets. First thing I realized was that homeless people didn't like it when strangers stepped in their territory; second one was that it wasn't a clever idea, especially when you're a _girl_."

Kensi pauses, walking to the window to stare outside; she leans her forehead against the cool glass, sighing softly as she lays her hand on the wall for support. "I was a fifteen year-old girl living in a Marine base, I knew what it was like to be a rare species. There weren't so many girls, I don't know why. Most of the kids my age were boys." A quiet chuckle escapes her lips, and at this, Deeks can't help but smile. "My dad didn't like that at all, but they were his friends and fellow Marines' sons, what could he do ? But out there, I didn't get the same kind of _attention_."

She finally turns to him, leaning her back against the wall, twitching her fingers together and staring intently at them. "I've been lucky because my dad had taught me how to defend myself. I learned to avoid dark alleys and creepy guys. I learned not to listen to pretty promises. But when I heard Talia earlier…" Kensi can't suppress a shudder, and Deeks stands up, even though he doesn't take a step towards her. "When she told us about life at the shelter, it – it made me _sick_. And it made me think about those days…and how things could have been, if I had been just another vulnerable girl."

Kensi looks up, the ghost of a smile crossing her lips as she sees him standing there, ready to catch her if she falls. It doesn't surprise her; it literally takes her breath away, though, because she knows she doesn't deserve for Deeks to be so kind and compassionate when she's been anything but today. "And I know it's not an excuse for the way I've been with you today. I made inappropriate comments. I was disrespectful. I didn't bother asking if you were okay. And I honestly can't explain why I acted like that any better. But…" She pauses for another moment, forcing herself to meet his eyes; he has every right to be angry and hurt, but all she can see at the moment in those beautiful deep blue eyes is genuine compassion and understanding. "It's not the first time I've let my emotions get the best of me like that. I know I should have told you after Astrid, but it was still too raw, too painful. And since then, I've felt that anger boiling again, that disgust, but each time I just forced it aside. And today I couldn't."

She takes a step towards him, and then another, until she's standing just before him, just a mere inch between their bodies as she looks up at him, eyes locking. "And on top of that, I forgot your birthday and had dinner with someone else, and I'm so sorry for that. I should have rescheduled with Jaime when I found out I had gotten the date wrong, but…"

"Then why didn't you ?" he asks, his voice just as low as it'd been earlier. His hands find hers, fingers gently wrapping around her wrists to still the incessant movement. "Why are you here now, if you didn't want to be earlier ?"

Her eyes never waver from his as Kensi speaks. Maybe she should have started by saying this. "Because I realized that I've been selfish and mean. I let my emotions cloud my judgment and the way I acted with you today, but I never took the time to think of _you_ and how _you_ felt. I was having dinner with Jaime, but all I could think about was you, and then I couldn't remember at all why I was doing this."

"He saved your life," Deeks says quietly, shrugging.

Kensi smiles, gently freeing her hands from his hold; she brings one to his chest, just laying it there for a moment. "You have my back _every day_. And today, I didn't have yours. You needed me, and I never asked you how you were doing, and it's what should have mattered the most to me today. _You_. This case was personal for you, and I made it all about me. So now… _Now_ I'm here."

The look in her eyes is so intense that Deeks almost has to look away; he forces himself not to and it's the hardest thing to do.

Because now, it's his turn to talk and share.

And if Kensi considers herself lucky, he sure never was.

-:-

He's not ready for this conversation. Honestly, he doesn't think he ever will.

For him to be ready to talk about his childhood, it would mean accepting that he couldn't have done anything to change what happened; that it was never his fault, that his father was to blame for drinking so bad and hurting them, that neither his mother nor he deserved any of it.

He may be _thirty-four_ today, but in his head, Deeks will never stop being _five_; he's running around the house, arms extended as he pretends to take a run-up and fly, the bright red cape his mother just made for him flying around,and then a solid arm stops him and he gets a fist to his mouth for no better reason than because he is too loud for his drunken father who is still getting over a bad hangover. He's _seven_, and he's hiding in the closet, seeing through the lids his mother crouching on the floor, blood pouring out of a deep cut on her temple, and hearing his father yell words that still give him chills almost thirty years later. He's _eight_, and he's late at school because he's spent the night curled up to his mom, listening to her quiet sobs as she apologized for all the things hid dad did to him.

He's _eleven_, and his entire body is shaking as a deafening sound follows his pulling the trigger and shooting his father.

And then he's _twenty-five_ and he thinks that the past seven years that he's spent working so hard to become somebody will finally be worth it; that he'll finally make a difference. He tries – God, he tries. And then a little girl clings to his leg and begs him not to take her away from her mommy and he kneels down and promises that he will do his everything.

And then that same little girl is suddenly nineteen, but she looks like she's ten all over again as she tells him what her life's been like, at the same time as she sounds like she's so much older; she sounds like she's seen too much, so much more than any college girl should ever have.

Just like him.

And then Deeks is thirty-four and he realizes that no matter what he does, no matter how fast and how far he runs, it's never going to be _enough_.

This time, he's the one needing to put some distance between them, and to her credit, Kensi lets him. He takes a step back, turns around as he rakes a hand through his messy curls, and suddenly he's back to the gym, beating the punching bag as he tells her how he shot his father when he was a kid; he's back to the desert, telling her how his father's last words to him were _Marty, I hate you_, before coming to him with a shotgun, six years before.

He lied to her. But now, she wants the truth, and he doesn't know what's the truth anymore, and what's the tale he made up.

Because if he's the kid who goes to school with a black eye and whose mom makes up stories about how clutzy he can be, he's also the kid sitting on his father's lap and cheering at his first Clippers game. He's the little boy having fun with his best friend Ray and both their dads as they camp in the garden one summer night. He's the boy tucking the blanket over his father as he sleeps on the couch, and sometimes a hand rises from underneath, and instead of feeling blood in his mouth, it's a gentle caress that he feels on his cheek.

And no matter how much he says he hates his father, there's no denying that deep down, it's not only hatred he feels for him. He hates him when he thinks of how he broke his mother, not just her body but also her spirit; but there's also the guilt and shame and regret of a little boy for not being good enough that he just _can't_ shake off.

That never really left him, when he thinks about it.

He's so lost in his thoughts that he doesn't hear her coming closer; it's her hand on his arm that makes him snap back into focus. And it's a simple, gentle question that sets him off again. "Deeks. You okay ?"

His reply is harsh, harsher than he intends to, but at this point he just can't hold it back. "I'm _fine_. I'm not the one who can't compartmentalize."

He regrets it immediately, but he doesn't take it back. Kensi just takes it, slowly nodding her head, her bottom lip caught again between her teeth; the pressure is harder this time, though. "I'm sorry, Deeks. I really am," she simply repeats, not trying to defend herself from his attack.

Honestly, she thinks she deserves it.

"I just… I just wanted you to know that if you want to talk, I'm here. Because I know how hard it must have been for you to see someone you knew and cared for in danger, and then hear Talia talk about all these things…"

"What do you know ?" he snaps at her, shaking his head in disbelief. "You only _think_ you know. You think that because your dad yelled at you once you know what it feels like, but you don't."

She shakes her head, her eyes widening; she can't believe him. "Deeks, that's not what I –"

"What do you want me to say ?" he goes on, not paying attention to her vain attempt to calm him down. "That I know what Talia's been through because I know what it's like to be that kid whose life is hell, but I let it happen to her anyway ? You want to know what leads an eleven year-old to shoot his own father ? What do you want ?"

She takes a step closer to him again, despite the anger she can feel radiating from him. She's face-to-face with him, looking straight in his eyes; where is the pale, soothing shade of the prettiest blue that was there just moments before ? "I just want you to know that I'm sorry and that I'm here for you."

His words taste like acid in his own mouth, but he just can't swallow them back. "You're here _now_."

Kensi's eyes flutter close for a second, her lips pressed in a thin line before she opens them again, her voice nothing but a low murmur. "I can spend the night apologizing. I can spend every day apologizing until you forgive me. I'll do it, you know, if that's what you want."

"That's not what I want."

She throws his question back at him as she takes another step closer to him; really, she didn't think they could be any closer, but somehow, they are. "Then what do you want ?"

She's so close that their noses almost touch, and yet, in that moment, there's not the intimacy, the playfulness, the sexual tension that usually overwhelms them when boundaries, physical or emotional, are crossed. He's wanted to kiss her so many times, on so many occasions, but right now isn't one of them. "I want to know where we stand. I want to know if I can tell you about everything and if you're still gonna be there after. If you're not gonna run."

He almost wants to add that when their positions had been reversed, when she had been a suspect in multiple murder cases, when evidence had been against her, he had been there for her, no matter what; that he hadn't doubted her, not even for a second.

He doesn't say it, but the message is clear in his deep blue eyes, and he's sure that Kensi gets it.

It just breaks her heart that he could think she wouldn't – but then again, she can't blame him. After all, her behavior today showed him just the contrary. Slowly, she nods her head, bringing a hand to him, just merely brushing his hip, not even daring to fully lay it there; she's the one needing some contact between them. Despite their proximity, Kensi feels like he's million miles away. "I'm not going anywhere. You can tell me anything."

_But I'm your partner, you can tell me anything._

He breathes in deeply, his warm breath fanning over her face, and then he says, "Okay."

-:-

She's Badass Blye, Kickass Kensi; he's laidback, goofy Marty Deeks. She doesn't need anyone; no one really ever liked him. She's tough and strong; jokes and barbs roll off his back, grin always on.

Beneath the surface, though… There are cracks in the foundations, scars left by abandonment and loss and ache and pain, scars that have never truly faded nor healed.

She doesn't need anyone, because she's convinced that people always leave; no one likes him because he's always been the outsider, the kid with the smart mouth that no one ever thought could become somebody, someday. She swore that she'd never let anyone worm their way in her heart ever again, for them only to walk out of her life; he's always left before someone could try and stick around.

But tonight, and for the past three years, he's become the exception to her every rule and she's grown to make him long for somewhere and someone to call home.

None of them really knows what they're running from, but in their mind, there's no longer any doubt at all: they are done.

Kensi gently tugs at his hand as she sits down, and he follows, taking the seat beside her again. This time, they sit much closer to each other than before. There's still anger pulsing in his veins – it scares him – but Kensi doesn't let it unsettle her. She lays a hand on his knee, tilting her head to look at him from under her lashes. "_Deeks_…"

"As a public defender, I kind of got all the cases that no one else wanted," he starts, a sad smile crossing his lips. "Kind of like me, I guess. You don't want a young, inexperienced lawyer. You don't want to be partnered up with the guy who's been stupid enough to drop law." He shrugs. "Jenny… She reminded me of my mom. She hadn't made the best life choices, sure, but she really loved Talia, and she tried her best for her. Just like my mom. If it hadn't been for her protecting me, my dad would have killed me long ago."

Kensi tightens her grip on his knee and Deeks smiles at her, a small smile, but a smile all the same. "When I met them, they were living in a shelter, and they had nothing but the clothes they were wearing and each other. But that was more than I'd ever seen growing up. Because me, maybe I had a roof above my head and food on the table at every meal, but my mom and dad, they never looked happy. Well, my dad never was, actually. My mom, she always had a smile on for him when he came home, she always did her best, but if he was in one of his moods, nothing she could do was ever good enough – and nothing I did was good enough either.

"But Jenny and Talia, despite everything, they were leaning on each other. And it reminded me of me and my mom. And I promised myself that I wouldn't let anyone hurt them, like my dad used to hurt us; so we fought, and Jenny retained custody. And I felt like I wasn't powerless for once, like I could do something… Just like I had felt when I shot my dad…"

Deeks pauses then, the words scratching at the back of his throat. He isn't proud of what he did – had he been able to protect his mother any other way, he would have – but he can't deny that it had been the first time in his young life that he hadn't felt completely weak and vulnerable. As he'd aimed the gun at his father, he'd felt like, maybe, everything he'd put them through was coming to an end.

"I was eleven, and I was old enough to know what domestic abuse meant, and yet too young at the same time to do anything about it. I was too ashamed to tell anyone else than Ray. I was also old enough to know that guns weren't toys, but then my mom was lying on the ground, and there was so much blood…" He bites on his lip, hard, the pressure a vivid reminder that he's here and not _there_ and _then_. "He'd never hit her that hard. And I mean, it was the first time that I _truly_ believed he was about to kill her – kill _us_. Because when he turned to me and saw me, he just ranted and yelled about how useless and worthless I was, just like her, and that he didn't know what he'd done to deserve any of this… And my mom, she told me to run, but I couldn't leave her behind. I wasn't even sure that she'd still be alive when I came back if I went to ask for help.

"Honestly, I don't remember pulling the trigger. I don't remember anything but the loud sound and screams – my mom's, my dad's, mine, maybe. The one thing I remember, though, is the fear and the guilt that I felt just after. I thought I had killed him. I really thought I had killed my father, and all of a sudden I almost didn't see my mom who was bleeding on the floor. The only thing I was aware of was that I had killed him. And you'd think I'd feel relieved, because if he was dead, he couldn't hurt us anymore, but…_no_. Because in spite of everything, he was my dad, and I didn't want him to die."

Kensi reaches for his hand then, gently taking it in hers; she squeezes tightly, trying to convey with one little touch that she believes him, that she doesn't think any less of him, that she doesn't see him differently. He gives a squeeze back before freeing his hand, lacing his fingers together as he leans in, elbows on his thighs as he rests his forehead on his linked hands.

"People think I must hate my dad, but I don't. I mean, I hate him but at the same time I never really stopped loving him. And I wanted him to love me, and my mom too. I wanted us to be a real family, just like the ones the other kids at school had. But I guess he was just too damaged, too far gone – but I couldn't accept that. Because some days, he was great, and even if it only happened every once in a while, my mom just had the brightest smile when he kissed her cheek or took me out to play. And she was my everything, so I wanted her to be happy…"

Silence falls upon them, and after a long moment stretching in a few minutes when the only sound in his living-room is their breathing, Kensi decides not to push.

In three years, Deeks has only mentioned his mother once, and he lied to her about his father on the same occasion. Now, upon hearing him talk about her, the regret and pain lacing in his voice, Kensi just really hopes that nothing happened to her.

She kind of can't help but think that something _did_, though.

Deeks finally looks up, anger gone in his eyes, replaced by a sadness that literally breaks her heart. He shrugs, lightly shaking his head. "We're messed-up, you know that ?" he says, the usual teasing in his tone not quite completely there, but pretty close.

"Broken beyond repair," she replies, smirking; she knows they're not good, not yet, at least. But they will be – they _always_ will. "I'm sorry," she adds, hoping that he knows she's not only talking about today.

She's sorry for never asking.

She's sorry for not always showing him how much he means to her.

She's sorry for not knowing _how_.

"I know," he simply says, a small, brief smile tugging at his lips.

And then, Kensi lifts her free hand to his face, gently cupping his jaw as she leans in. She stares into his eyes, into this blue she can't get enough of, and when he doesn't pull back or protest, she presses her lips to his in a soft, brief kiss. "Happy birthday, Marty," she murmurs against his lips, pulling away.

Her hand lingers on his cheek for a moment more, and then she takes it back as she gets up.

She's at the door when he calls her back. "You know, I, uh, I never had any cake today, in the end."

There's a little gleam of _hope_ in his eyes, behind the sadness and the hurt.

It's enough for her to know that they _will_ be okay. So Kensi puts her purse down and walks to his kitchen, opening fridge and cupboards. "Can't promise it'll be any good, but I can _try_."

That's all he could ever ask.

* * *

_the end_


End file.
